When Zhao An heard the line "Brother Tian, I don't speak with nuns", he immediately knew it was none other than Linghu Chong outwitting Tian Boguang with words. Quickening his pace, he rushed upstairs—this was a scene worth witnessing.
On the second floor, at the table by the window with the best view of the lake, sat three figures: a short-bearded man in black, about thirty; a pale-faced youth with sharp brows and starry eyes, barely in his early twenties; and a delicate young nun of sixteen or seventeen, her head lowered demurely.
Zhao An swept his eyes across the room. Nearly every seat was full except for two half-occupied tables: at one sat an old man and a young girl—Qu Yang, an elder of the Demon Sect, and his granddaughter Qu Feiyan. The other table held Tiansong Daoren of the Taishan Sect and the young, inexperienced pugilist Chi Baicheng.
Zhao An was just about to join Qu Yang's table when he caught sight of a ragged little hunchback huddled in a corner, head bowed, eyes darting nervously about.
His mind stirred. Zhao An stepped forward, seized the hunchback's wrist, and said,"Come with me."
The hunchback, startled and confused, struggled briefly but failed to break free. Reluctantly, he followed Zhao An over to Qu Yang's table.
Zhao An dropped himself into an empty seat with casual boldness."Elder, I'll share your table. This meal is on me."
Qu Yang's weathered face creased into a faint smile."Then I must thank young master for his generosity."
To be among the Ten Elders of the Sun-Moon Divine Cult, Qu Yang had to be more than just formidable in martial skill—he had to be ruthless as well. Otherwise, he would never have reached that position.
Yet now his sharpness was entirely hidden away. He looked for all the world like an amiable old man, likely having truly grown weary of the jianghu and yearning for a quiet life.
The seats facing Linghu Chong's table were already taken by Qu Yang and Qu Feiyan, forcing Zhao An to sit sideways if he wanted a view.
Settling in, he leaned with interest to watch Linghu Chong toy with Tian Boguang.
The hunchback, motioned by Zhao An, sat as well—though he looked extremely uneasy.
"Relax," Zhao An reassured with a faint smile. "I mean you no harm."
He then called over a server, ordered a few signature dishes, and a pot of wine, filling cups for everyone at the table.
It was as the saying goes: handsome faces are common, but truly interesting souls are rare. Linghu Chong's words might be shameless nonsense, but his humor was irresistible. The back-and-forth between him and Tian Boguang was like watching a comic routine, and soon nearly everyone upstairs was listening in amusement.
Linghu Chong chuckled,"Brother Tian, though your lightness skill is unmatched in the world, should you be cursed with ill fate, even the best qinggong won't save you."
Tian Boguang's face darkened, then lightened, then darkened again. He glanced at Linghu Chong, then at the little nun, before shaking his head."I, Tian Boguang, roam the land freely. How could I be troubled by such things? This little nun—since we've already laid eyes on her, let her stay here to keep us company."
At that, Chi Baicheng of the Taishan Sect could no longer hold back. With a cry of indignation, he drew his sword to "eliminate evil for the people" and "rescue the beauty."
But before anyone could blink, he had already met his end—cut down within two moves.
Tiansong Daoren too could no longer sit still. Perhaps he hadn't expected Chi Baicheng to die so quickly, or perhaps he simply couldn't stomach watching such injustice. Either way, he stepped forward. His swordsmanship was respectable, his strikes crisp and proud, but still he was no match for Tian Boguang.
Within moments, he too had taken a heavy slash to the chest.
Only because the young nun, Yi Lin, pleaded desperately did Tian Boguang stay his hand, allowing the Daoist to limp away with his life.
Linghu Chong, ever chivalrous, had leapt in to help as well—but not only did he fail to save anyone, he ended up receiving a wound himself.
Watching this whole scene unfold, Zhao An calmly evaluated Tian Boguang's blade.
"His saber is indeed quick. But compared to my Bixie Swordplay, it's still a distance away. A month ago, before I'd mastered the art, I might have been weaker. But now? Within three moves, I could defeat him."
Turning back, Zhao An fixed his gaze on the hunchback."Why are you here? Didn't Yu Canghai of the Qingcheng Sect suffer injuries? Two of his four chief disciples are dead, the rest—Yu Renhao and the like—are mediocre at best. With no one left to lead, has the Qingcheng Sect been destroyed? And was the Fuwei Escort Bureau wiped out as well?"
The hunchback flinched as if struck by thunder. His breath grew heavy. Yet, wary of speaking, he forced a dry smile."I don't understand a word you're saying, young master. I'm just a beggar. How would I know anything about Yu Canghai? If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."
He made to rise.
But Zhao An pressed him gently back down."No need to be afraid. I told you—I've no malice toward you. I've had my own grudges with the Qingcheng Sect, greater than yours. You don't need to fear me."
At those words, the hunchback seemed to relax slightly, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears, sorrow barely contained.
Zhao An continued,"There's no need to pretend. I won't force you into anything. Just last month in Fuzhou City, I saw you. Back then you wore fine robes, carried a treasured sword at your waist, and rode a white steed with pride. How spirited you were! And now… reduced to this."
Perhaps it was these words that broke him. The hunchback began to sob softly.
From the son of a wealthy household, dressed in luxury, to disguising himself as a beggar just to survive—such a fall was enough to crush anyone's spirit.
Seeing his grief, Zhao An said nothing further.
Just then, across the way, Linghu Chong spoke again,"Good. Then let's set the rule—before the duel is decided, whichever of us stands up first, loses."
Tian Boguang sneered,"Agreed! Before victory is settled, whoever rises first is defeated."
He went on to add absurd conditions—that the loser must bow to the little nun as master, or even castrate himself.
Zhao An judged the timing was right. Their farcical "crosstalk" was nearing its end.
He rose, interrupting the exchange, and said,"For the sake of a nun you barely know, you're willing to wager your very life. Linghu Chong, that alone is enough to earn you the title of knight-errant. I'll drink a cup to you."
His sudden intervention startled both Tian Boguang and Linghu Chong, clearly signaling his intent to meddle in their struggle.
Tian Boguang's lips curled in a cold sneer, his hand already on his saber hilt.
Linghu Chong, however, understood Zhao An's intention to help. Yet, seeing his youthful face, he assumed Zhao An's skills couldn't surpass his own—certainly not enough to contend with Tian Boguang. He feared Zhao An would only throw his life away.
So he stayed seated, lifted his cup, and drained it."Brother, you flatter me. Linghu Chong is but a wandering wastrel, hardly worthy of such a word as knight. And now is no time for drinking. Sit a while longer. Once I've beaten Brother Tian, I'll share a great drunken feast with you."
Zhao An only smiled faintly, raised his cup, and emptied it in one gulp. Setting it down, he turned to Tian Boguang."Your saber skills are decent. But killing you would take me no more than three moves."
The words struck the crowd like thunder. Every jianghu figure present—even Linghu Chong—was stunned.
Qu Yang, momentarily taken aback, studied Zhao An carefully before shaking his head. He muttered to Qu Feiyan, "Just a reckless youth. He can't possibly have such ability. To match Linghu Chong would already be remarkable for his age—Tian Boguang is far beyond that."
Tian Boguang, however, flew into a rage. His sneer deepened."Arrogant brat! To boast of killing me in three moves—what brazen nonsense. Try surviving even one of my blades first!"
Linghu Chong hastily unsheathed his sword to intervene."Brother Tian, calm yourself!"
But Tian Boguang's speed was far greater. Before Linghu Chong's words had even finished, his saber flashed like lightning, slashing for Zhao An's chest—the same move that had nearly killed Tiansong Daoren.
"He watched my fight just now, yet dares to challenge? He must have some trick," Tian Boguang thought, so he struck with his fiercest move right away.
But Zhao An shifted a single step, his figure blurring out of the strike's range.
With a swift motion, he drew his sword and thrust.
Tian Boguang's saber struck air. Before he could recover, a brilliant sword-light was already upon him. Startled, he swung instinctively to parry.
He barely managed to block the first strike when a second flashed forth. Forced onto the back foot, he retreated swiftly, channeling his full strength, his saber moving in a blur.
Tian Boguang's martial arts were no weaker than Yu Canghai's, only his inner power slightly less.
But Zhao An had already studied his bout with Tiansong Daoren. He knew the secret to defeating fast blades—be even faster.
And in the realm of speed, Zhao An was a master.
Suddenly, both sword and saber froze in place. Tian Boguang stood rigid, eyes wide, saber still raised.
Zhao An's sword tip rested against his chest.
Cold sweat drenched Tian Boguang's brow. His vaunted "fast saber," famed throughout the jianghu, had proved worthless against this youth.
Zhao An cast him a crooked smile."The third move."
He pressed forward, ready to pierce Tian Boguang's heart—only to find his sword halted, unable to advance.
Zhao An frowned."What? I've never heard of him practicing any iron-body skill…"
He twisted his wrist, aiming for the throat instead.
But Tian Boguang's left hand whipped up, scattering a cloud of white powder.
Having once used flour to ambush Yu Canghai, Zhao An was already wary of such tricks. Instinctively, he shielded his eyes, held his breath, and leapt back, his sword flurrying before him to ward off danger.
A sharp clang rang out—his blade had struck something solid. From the feel of it, it was Tian Boguang's saber.
He retreated three full zhang before daring to open his eyes. By then, Tian Boguang was already fleeing into the distance.
Measuring his speed, Zhao An chose not to pursue. His own footwork, while lightning-quick in combat, was ill-suited for long chases. Tian Boguang's famed "Ten-Thousand-Mile Lone Wanderer" qinggong was no joke—the odds of catching him were slim.
On the floor where Tian Boguang had stood lay a few drops of blood, a severed little finger, and his discarded saber.
During Zhao An's wild sword flurry, he had sliced off Tian Boguang's left pinky—and deflected his thrown saber in the process.